


Come

by Lily_Specter



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Boredom, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy, sex slave spock, space-longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Specter/pseuds/Lily_Specter
Summary: A short and sweet one for you guys and gals. Angsty, horny Kirk pines for that dang Vulcan again and things get sticky.





	Come

It’s earlier than it seems. The Captain is stretched out on his bed after a long shift on the bridge, still reclined in the same position in which he’d exhaustedly collapsed; one leg draped over the edge, foot on the floor, left arm thrown over his tired eyes. He didn’t even take his boots off. He idly thinks about the mundane non-events of the past few days, the way the long trips between ports and missions make him feel a little crazy. He gets lonely, obsessive, imagines other lives he could've lived or things he should or should not have done or said… things he might've done differently.  
He sighs. His right hand makes its way to the fastening of his trousers and he absentmindedly brushes his hand over his half-hard cock. He is thinking about Spock. The long, empty days seem to be increasingly filled with this, as his relationship with his first officer has evolved into something riddled with strange tension, something that feels good, warm, electric, but also terrifying and difficult to pinpoint or understand. Their evening chess games have developed into what feels like flirtation, or even foreplay. He bites his lip when he thinks about the way Spock looks at him through the game pieces. But he questions himself, for he is still unsure: is there truly anything there or might he be projecting his own delusions into Spock’s enigmatic eyes, manipulating his own perception of reality?  
He unfastens his pants to free his cock, kicking off one boot and pulling his left leg up on the bed. He strokes himself gently and invites the thoughts to come. There is one particular fantasy he employs when thinking about Spock this way; a prurient, shameful vision in which Spock is somehow his slave or concubine. He imagines being the first to penetrate him; teaching him how to fuck. He doesn’t prefer to imagine Spock—or anyone else—in a position of bondage or sexual servitude, but it’s the only way he can allow his mind to generate plausible images of the decorous Vulcan participating in the vulgar acts he almost assuredly may only ever indulge by way of fantasy.  
He strokes himself with more purpose now. He imagines Spock on his knees, generously mouthing his cock, looking up at him with dark, lustful eyes. He pictures himself naked, standing, leaning back against a bulkhead, running fingers through smooth black hair, brushing fingertips over delicately pointed ears as Spock’s eager mouth envelops him. This mythical Kirk pushes the Vulcan’s head away, gently, breaking contact, pulls his cock out of the warm, soft orifice and commands, “Lick” as he turns his body 180 degrees. Fantasy concubine Spock does not hesitate and spreads the Captain's round, golden ass cheeks. The hot Vulcan tongue laps zealously at the tiny pucker and slithers up to his tail bone and back to his balls, over and over.  
Kirk moans at the image of his morally and physically pristine First Officer doing something so deliciously filthy. His hand pumps his cock faster. The tiny slapping sound of the action is amplified by the silence of his dimly lit quarters and suddenly he is imagining the sharp, staccato smacking sound his hips would make if he were pounding his cock deep into Spock’s well lubed ass. In his mind’s eye, imaginary Kirk’s body is hammering against Spock’s, pushing long, lean legs apart, Spock's knees up against his shoulders as Kirk thrusts his hips relentlessly. Spock’s cock bounces up and down against his own belly and a wet SLAP SLAP SLAP fills the air before Kirk interjects and hisses “Moan for me.”  
The image of himself fucking Spock like this coupled with the thought and vision of the beautiful Vulcan naked, debauched and moaning like a whore makes the real Captain moan too and pushes him over the edge. Warm, pungent globs of semen pump out over his belly and slick his cock and fingers generously as he finishes. Seconds pass and he unconsciously raises his hand to his lips and flicks his tongue over the back of his hand, tasting himself, imagining he is tasting Spock.  
The waking dream seems to end too suddenly, like a film strip being severed in the middle of a movie. Reality shimmers back into focus around him and he finds himself alone in the dark, sprawled on his bed, covered in his own sticky, cold ejaculate. Woefully, he cleans himself and changes clothes, feeling almost too wistful to be able to look forward to his usual evening plans. He is standing at the wash basin when he hears the door chime.  
The voice on the intercom says “Jim” warmly and he feels his lower belly tingle at the sound of it. He says “Yes, Spock… Come.” The door swishes open, the graceful Vulcan steps inside with one long stride and all at once Kirk knows, like he knows anything that is absolutely certain and true, knows that tonight he will kiss him.


End file.
